Hot Tea and Sugar
by J. S. Writer
Summary: RHr oneshot. Takes place right after Dumbledore's funeral. HBP spoilers.


Author's Note: Long time, no see, eh? Well, I'm back with an R/Hr one-shot right before the publication of the last Harry Potter book.

Hot Tea and Sugar

It was times like these when one would think things were too good to be true. If one great thing happened, ten horrible things had to follow. Hermione had always held this view, if not publicly, internally since before she ever knew of the wizarding world. She was moving closer and closer to the fact that one of the biggest wishes she had held for nearly seven years was about to come true, when the worst possible scenario she feared beat her to it: Dumbledore's death.

Reality had hit her in the equilibrium. She was with the one she desperately wished for when the worst thing dawned on her. Holding on to Ron for dear life in mourning of their beloved headmaster's death was not the way she had imagined herself and Ron to get together.

Get together? How did she even know it was official? Ron was just there for her support, when she had started crying. And even more, how could she be worrying about this now in the common room, sitting alone on the sofa while other Gryffindor students quietly made their way to and fro, collecting their things—when she had just lost one of the greatest wizards, and even more, the greatest friend, ever known?

Hermione pulled the sofa's blanket tighter around herself. Despite the summer heat, she had enchanted the fire to remain burning, despite small complaints from other students, and wrapped herself in a woolen blanket to settle the strange chills she felt. Was it love? Disbelief? Or both.

She sighed, closing her eyes. Harry was nowhere to be found. When she had said her goodbyes to him at the lake after the funeral, he and Ron headed off further down the grounds for a bit, and she had decided to return to the castle for a last look around. She knew it would be a while before she returned, and yet she only ended up here, on the couch, staring at an unnecessary fire—a fire that merrily symbolized hope and security, something no one could feel then.

Not even caring about what passersby's thought of her, Hermione twisted herself so her legs were spread out the width of the sofa and her head was rested softly on a pillow, her brown ringlets evenly spread out beneath her. She stared at the window; the sun was nearly set. She closed her eyes, breathing in, trying to sleep away any thoughts or emotions occupying her.

She woke with a start. Sitting up immediately and pulling bits of hair out of her mouth and face, Hermione looked around to an empty and dark common room, save the fire. If anyone had tried to put it out, there was no way to get around Hermione's protection charm. She fought the sheepish taste out of her mouth as she stared at the window, seeing nothing but a reflection of the common room from the dark sky.

"Ugh, what time is it?" she muttered to herself.

"It's nearly midnight."

She started at the sound of his voice. "Ron?"

She rubbed at her eyes, suddenly worrying about her nature of her sleep in his pretense, and even more, when there were still other students occupying the room.

Ron stood up from a chair far behind the sofa and against the back wall, beyond Hermione sight when she lied down. "Harry's asleep upstairs, probably having another nightmare. I offered to stay with him—couldn't find much of a will to sleep—just to check on him in case he got discomforted, but he refused, of course."

"He can't keep pushing us away," Hermione said, trying subtlety fix her hair as best she could.

"We won't let him. When I came back downstairs I noticed you were asleep. You were so quiet when we came in a few minutes ago I didn't even realize you were here."

Hermione smiled at bit at the thought that she didn't snore—unless he was just being polite or joking.

She kicked the woolen blanket down to her knees, suddenly feeling a surge of heat rush through her, so much that she shivered.

"You cold?" Ron asked, approaching her.

"Oh, no, I was, just, not now. I'm—I'm fine."

Ron wheeled his way around the sofa and sat at the end where her feet didn't reach, staring into the flames. "Is this really happening?" he whispered.

"Is what?"

"Everything. Dumbledore, us leaving school for good, going off to search for Horcruxes. It's just unbelievable. And I'm worrying about what my mum'll say!"

Hermione smiled. "Me too. It's a strange thing to be thinking about, what with everything else, but my parents don't even know half of the goings-on in this world. I'm afraid if they did they'd never let me stay."

"Stay?"

Hermione nodded. "Believe me, if I had told them more than I have as of now since the first year of school, I wouldn't be here."

Ron seemed a bit disturbed at this thought. He cleared his throat. "What will you tell them now?"

She shook her head, fighting back a single tear that was threatening to fall. "I don't know. It's too much to bear. I can't put myself in danger without them knowing. What if I—I—"

She stopped short, allowing herself to let her head fall into the woolen blanket tangled in her lap and sob. She could barely control herself, even when she felt Ron's weight shift as he stood up from the sofa and came to her side, gently massaging her back.

"I'm sorry," she apologized quickly, wiping at her eyes as she sat up. She could feel Ron's hand still on her back, even though her vision was blurred.

Was this really happening?

"I think we could all use some rest, Ron," she said. "I just, I just can't sleep under these circumstances. I can't imagine going to bed like it's any other night."

"Well, it's _not_ any other night," Ron grumbled, slumping down on the sofa behind her.

"Right."

It was a small whisper, but Ron began rubbing her back again when he felt the disparity of it.

"This is going to sound really strange," Ron said suddenly. "And it's an odd moment to bring it up at a time like this, after a day like this, but it's something I've had on my mind for ages."

"What is it?" Hermione could only whisper gently.

"Well, I guess you could call it, an…acronym? No, an analogy. Yeah, that's it, sorry."

Hermione simply nodded, not in the mood to correct.

"Well, you often say that opposites attract, right? You know, in your muggle sciences, perhaps some classes here, I wouldn't know. I don't really listen."

Hermione's heart nearly stopped. Opposites attract. Are we opposites?

"Anyway," Ron went on, "I think it's the right time to tell you. I've always thought of you as sweet, like sugar, I guess. Sometimes it's too much, and the sugar's too much to handle, but if you have just the right amount it's enjoyable."

_He wants to eat me?_ Hermione could only wonder incredulously.

"I know it's weird, but you're always telling me that I've got a hot head. It's kinda like hot tea, I guess. And sugar goes great with hot tea, especially if there's too much put in, because it dissolves, kind of blends together into one."

What's happening? Hermione wondered.

"We're like hot tea and sugar, Hermione," Ron said. "Completely different ingredients, but good together."

Hermione looked up to face Ron for the first time. She had to be dreaming. It was too sudden, too surreal.

"I knew it was stupid. Just forget I mentioned it," Ron blushed crimson. "I—I'm horrible with stuff like this. It was a bad time. I—"

"Ron," Hermione cut in. "You really think that?"

He opened his mouth to say something, but then held back. Hermione took the lead.

"That is one of the…sweetest, most creative and wonderful things anyone has ever said to me," she nearly choked on a new wave of tears.

Ron's face brightened until he saw her wet cheek at wiped at it with his large thumb. "I, I just always thought of that. For a while, like, even before I went out with—well, never mind."

Hermione nodded. "Tea and sugar."

"_Hot _tea and sugar," Ron corrected.

Hermione sighed; slowly moving herself backward until she was sure Ron would receive her. All too soon she found herself just lying in his arms, her eyes nearly closing again.

I'll wake up in the common room any moment now; I'll have just dozed off for a moment.

She opened her eyes, only to find herself still resting in Ron's arms on the sofa. His eyes stared into hers when she looked up at him.

"I'm sorry, Hermione."

"For what?"

"For everything. I, I just—"

"I think anything else we want to talk about can wait," Hermione said. "It's been one of the worst days I could ever imagine, and yet I feel happy right now. Is that so wrong?"

"Dumbledore believed in love," Ron whispered.

"But when we should be mourning."

"He'd want us to find comfort in others, it's one of his philosophies," Ron went on. "Even in the worst hours, we can always find comfort."

It can't be wrong. I have to be dreaming. Such wise words, I must be dreaming them, Hermione repeated to herself.

She slowly raised her hand up slightly to pinch her arm without Ron noticing. She winced a bit, catching Ron's attention, who then took her hand from her arm and squeezed it.

I'm not dreaming. I'm not. It's finally real.

"Hot tea and sugar, miss?"

Hermione looked down to see Dobby emerge from the air. "Ronald Weasley requested it at this hour for Miss Hermione Granger. Ronald and Hermione must sleep. Hot tea and sugar can put Ronald and Hermione to sleep."

"Dobby," Hermione whimpered. She took in a breath. "Thank you, Dobby."

"Thank you, Miss Hermione. Dobby thanks you all. Hermione, Ronald, and Harry Potter have given us protection, and we all thank you for that."

"We?" Hermione inquired.

"Us house elfs, yes, miss, and the teachers, and the school. We hear everything," Dobby smiled, a bit guiltily.

Hermione smiled, accepting the tea with Ron.

"Goodnight, Hermione Granger, and to Ronald Weasley as well." He quickly apparated, the silver of the tray the tea had been delivered on vanishing with a flash of light against the fire.

"I planned on telling you, so I thought it would be a nice touch," Ron said. "I practiced and practiced how I'd say it, not that it helped much—"

"Ron," Hermione interrupted, reaching up to touch his cheek. "Thank you."

They both took silent sips of tea for a moment. The temperature was just right; they were able to finish it within seconds.

"Hot tea and sugar," Hermione said.

Ron gazed at her, his blue eyes nearly piercing. "I may never get another chance."

"There's no predicting our future, Ron, even if Professor Trelawney was a world renowned Divination instructor."

Ron smiled down at her. "Yes, she is quite the nut job, isn't she?"

Hermione smiled. "But things will never be the same."

"That's why I have to—"

Ron stopped mid-sentence, taking his tea cup as well as Hermione's and placing them on the table next to them. He cupped her chin in his hand, leaned in slowly, and let his lips brush across hers.

It was like a spark set off between them. Hermione had never felt this way before, in her life, with anything—anyone. She wrapped her arms around Ron's neck and pulled him closer, kissing him the way she had always dreamed she would.

I won't wake up now, because the dream is real.

Hermione broke the kiss and gazed into Ron's eyes. She saw her future right there, and his protection, and Harry's, and the pursuit of a safe and brand new life.

Just by looking into his eyes she knew that they would be together until the end, whenever it was, however it happened, they would meet it together.

A pair of eyes watched the embracing couple from behind the dormitory stairway, clutching the silver tea tray to his chest.

"Some hot tea and sugar for Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger."

The End

Author's Note: My one-shot, everybody. I finally got a Harry Potter fic up to show. Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
